High School Magical

Chapter 9

After dessert, a sliver of peach pie—I couldn't resist—Wyatt walks with Yassi and me to the dorm. The twilight shadows, the mild late summer air, and the low murmur of them talking remind me of where I am—it feels magical. High school magical.

I've always loved the sunset and the in between time when the stars come out. But in this strange and unexpected moment, I want the sun to linger in the sky a little longer. It's almost as if I expect the light of day to offer a bit more clarity about this new turn my life has taken. But it sinks behind the mountains in the distance, leaving me feeling uncertain about how and where I fit into all of this.

Then Yassi's words echo in recent memory. She said she tries not to fit in. Maybe that's the point after all. Maybe by being myself (a witch?), finding my way at Applemoor won't be too difficult. Even though I'm starting at the beginning here, maybe I can just be me. First, I have to figure out who that is.

Lanterns illuminate the path back toward the ivy-covered dorms, and I feel a surge of warmth, like the sun passing overhead, or a star brightening, even though night has fallen. Yassi and Wyatt walk a few steps ahead and now they're laughing and falling in love. It's so obvious and so sweet I can't help but smile.

Behind me, a group of people from our table are subject to Quince, still rattling on about scientific formulas.

When we reach the wooden porch in front of the dormitory, Wyatt says goodnight to Yassi and trots off. Quince calls to him, trying to catch up, "Hey, did I tell you about—"

Yassi's laugh turns into a long sigh. "Isn't he handsome?" The hearts in her eyes tell me she's definitely not talking about Quince.

When we enter the dorm, Yassi spreads her arms wide and says, "Welcome to Penny House."

An irritated (and irritatingly pitched) voice says, "Fiona Pennylegion House, actually."

Yassi rolls her eyes. "Correction, Honey Oakes's great, great, how many was it again?" She waves her hand dismissively and not waiting for Honey's response says, "Never mind. We call it Penny House."

Honey cuts her eyes at Yassi. "By the end of this year, you'll learn to be respectful."

Yassi's eyes lower halfway and she says, "Honey, respect is something earned and you know the exact moment you lost mine."

Honey grits her teeth. "Get out of my head or I'll report you."

"Defensive use is not prohibited," Yassi counters.

Honey shakes her head. "You better watch out." Then her eyes flash, noticing me for the first time. She hesitates as though we've met and she can't remember my name, but of course, we haven't. She must come to some unpleasant conclusion because next, she glowers at me—full on narrowed eyes and pinched lips.

Yassi mutters, "Don't mind her, she's bitter. Long story about a boy we both had a crush on. It turns out he asked me to the sweetheart dance last year."

As we shuffle out of the entryway, she goes on. "She thought I'd told Dane yes. I didn't because our friendship meant more to me than a boy, but she went ahead and gave me a tummy trouble brew. Before I realized what hit me, I was in the infirmary and she took my place and went to the sweetheart dance with Dane."

"That's awful," I say, suddenly missing Chelsea, and our Homecoming plans, a ton.

As we continue down the hall, Yassi gives me a tour of the old house converted into a communal living space. The library and kitchenette are small and have an enchanted quality with cubbies and nooks and lots of low lighting. I smell chocolate and butter and sugar. Lace curtains cover small tables and framed needlepoint decorates the walls.